


How to Make "Fine" Lose All Meaning

by pyrrhical (anoyo)



Category: The Last Ship (TV)
Genre: Episode 405, M/M, Missing Scene, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 01:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13043847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoyo/pseuds/pyrrhical
Summary: SpoilersTom visits Mike after returning to the James at the start of season four. They are, neither of them, "fine."





	How to Make "Fine" Lose All Meaning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starseverywhere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starseverywhere/gifts).



> To the requester: I hope you enjoy this. It originally had another scene, but I felt it completely changed what was being said, so I removed it; I apologize for the last-minute editing that made this so ungodly short. 
> 
> This was beta'd by the lovely waketosleep and dirty_diana, both of whom made it leaps and bounds better. Any remaining Awkward or Bad is all me.
> 
> Happy Holidays!

“Enter!”

Tom swung the door open and grinned. “Enter? What is that, your regal command?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Mike agreed, pushing himself upright at his desk. “You can bow now.”

Tom laughed, then dropped into the open chair and leaned back. He gave Mike a long look. “How are you?”

Mike shrugged, though his slouch gave away more than he probably intended. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sure you will,” Tom agreed, crossing his arms. “Not what I asked.”

“It hurts,” Mike said. “How about you?”

“Me?” Tom asked, setting a lopsided grin on his face. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” Mike asked, giving Tom that look he had perfected what felt like moments after they met, the one that said, _I see your bullshit and I’m humoring you, but only because you outrank me._ “You spent what, weeks, fighting idiots half your age because you’re fine?”

“Mike--” 

“Don’t give me that,” Mike cut him off, throwing a hand in the air and scowling. “You’re not my captain anymore, you can’t shut me down just because you feel like it.”

“Mike,” Tom started again, more softly.

“Bullshit, Tom,” Mike continued. “Answer the damn question.”

The problem was-- Well, the problem was that the question just wasn’t that easy to answer. “Pissed,” Tom said, after a pause. “Restless. A little bored.” He paused again, watching as Mike waited for him to finish. “I was good, for a while,” Tom continued. “Took the kids to live in a fishing village. It was easy.”

“But you got bored,” Mike finished, relaxing back into his chair. 

Tom waved a hand. “It was manageable,” he said. “I fished, I cooked, I got to know the village. I probably could have kept on.”

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Giorgio and his pack of idiots,” Tom answered. “They kept taking the fish as tax and feeding the villagers that tea, and we tried to stop it. I beat his guy.” Tom shrugged. “It sort of spiraled.” 

“‘It sort of spiraled’,” Mike repeated. “The Tom Chandler story.”

Tom pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes, sagging slightly into his chair. “When you guys turned up, it was like some sort of insane serendipity.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s an oxymoron,” Mike quipped, then grinned. “Why’d you go along with it? Giorgio, I mean.”

“At first, because I was stuck and they’d have killed me. After that, because I realized they were working on rust-resistant food.”

“At least this proves it,” Mike said, giving Tom a sharp grin. “You’re the trouble magnet, and I’m just the dumb bastard who gets pulled into it.”

“Bull,” Tom said. “We both got pulled into this, separately. You can’t blame this one on me.”

“Watch me,” Mike said. He twisted to grab a glass of water off his desk and winced, turning back around more slowly before he took a drink. “I join this ship for a joy ride to the Arctic, we wind up in the middle of the damn apocalypse. You try to get the cure to the shore, we wind up in a damn government holocaust venture. You help form a government, we become enemy number one while trying to save it.”

Tom ran a hand through his hair. “I’m pretty sure all you’ve got there is circumstantial.” He said, with a teasing tone in his voice as he slowly lifted his eyebrow. “You can’t prove I caused any of that.”

“You sure as shit didn’t let anyone else take point,” Mike said, taking another drink.

“Not my fault we’re the best men for the job.” 

Mike laughed. “You got picked to escort Rachel; I was just the closest available first officer.”

“Best men for the job, Mike,” Tom repeated.

Mike laughed again, and when it caused him to wince, the shot to the gun obviously causing him pain, he just shook it off. “It’s been shit without you, Tom,” he said, shaking his head.

“I don’t know,” Tom said, looking around. “The James is in one piece, we’ve got the seeds, and we’ve only probably got the Greek Navy trying to blow us up. I’d say you’re doing pretty well.”

“Jackass,” Mike said, his voice more affectionate than affronted.

Tom let the quiet sit for a moment, just taking in the comfortable silence and watching Mike, from his slouch to the way his eyes were sharp, as though he was trying to pluck Tom’s thoughts right out of the air.

“It’s been shit without you,” Mike repeated, his voice softer.

“Yeah,” Tom agreed, standing. He walked to the door and latched it, then turned and leaned against the bulkhead.

“Are you going to take back your commission?” Mike asked.

Tom shrugged, but otherwise remained still. “I don’t know yet,” he said. “I know I should.” He paused. “I know I can’t stay out of it.”

Mike nodded, like Tom’s answer had been perfectly clear. “Well,” he said, “you gotta know you’re gonna have to fight me for the ship.”

Tom barked a laugh, then pushed off the bulkhead, walking back to where Mike was seated. “I really don’t think that’d be a fair fight, buddy.” He dropped into a crouch and put a hand on the raised portion of Mike’s uniform, where he knew the bandage was. “Unfair advantages and all.”

“Unfair advantage for who?” Mike asked, curling a hand around Tom’s biceps. 

“You, obviously,” Tom answered, letting himself be pulled into a kiss.

It wasn’t a settled thing, or even something that happened particularly often, but leaning into Mike, the bulk of him, was comfortable. It was something they’d been allowed to have, the last few years, outside of expectations and the desperation that colored almost everything else. It was trust, and friendship, and a dozen other things curled around a core of ease.

Tom pulled back, meeting Mike’s eye. “What are you up for?” he asked, his hand still pressed against Mike’s side.

Mike kissed him again, quickly, then growled, “Not being treated like a goddamn invalid.”

Tom laughed, a hot breath of air against Mike’s mouth. “Yeah, fair enough.” Tom stood, then put out a hand. “That couch is gonna be hell.”

“A lot of things are hell,” Mike agreed, grasping Tom’s forearm and letting himself be levered to his feet. “This, I think I can live with.”


End file.
